


Cipher

by obstinatrix



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Fred wouldn't know a kink if it slapped him in the face, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/pseuds/obstinatrix
Summary: Morse is too much inside himself, locked up tight as a puzzle box, encrypted. Thursday doesn't like what the cipher has turned out to be, but he can't resist using it.





	Cipher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishwellingtons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishwellingtons/gifts).



There was a headiness to it Fred didn’t much want to acknowledge, the act of deciphering Morse this way, unlocking him finger by touch by kiss. He didn’t give much away, that lad, but Fred was beginning to understand the code in the way he pressed his lips together or turned his head, long throat exposed and eyelashes fluttering. Fred’s thumb hovered at the notch of his collarbone and Morse arched beneath him, the pale, freckled length of him a quiet, quivering plea. 

Fred couldn’t deny him anything, which was starting to piss him right off. 

Still, it was worth it, watching his big hand cover the slender base of Morse’s white neck and swallowing the critical voice inside himself as Morse’s lips parted, breath hitching. His thighs shook; Fred smoothed his other hand down Morse’s flank and squeezed as if settling a frightened horse. 

“Shhh, lad.” The line of Morse’s jaw needed kissing, so Fred did. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.” 

The trembling went on. Morse was sweating finely with it, his body hot and clenching where Fred was inside him, and Fred made himself do it; pressed just a little until Morse keened low in his throat and hitched his hips, his voice the barest rasp, “ _Please…”_

 _“Shhh,”_ Fred repeated. They were rocking together now, the rhythm of it hypnotic, every shift of Morse’s larynx caught in the palm of Fred’s hand. Fred could feel his heartbeat under his fingers and in his cock. Morse’s mouth was flushed pink from kisses Fred had feared were too rough until the lad had gone frantic against him, all teeth and grasping hands,  _please–_

The way he bit off the word made Fred wonder what might have followed if Morse had let it. Sometimes, Fred let slip a  _darling_ without thinking, which Morse didn’t seem to mind. He could feel the word poised on his lips now, seeing Morse like this, his brows drawn-together and the trembling of his muscles setting fires of tenderness in the pit of Fred’s stomach. “All right, son.” All right, darling. 

His cock was hot and stiff between their bellies and Fred could feel the slick of it, the way it twitched as Fred bore down, pushing as deep into Morse as he could get, fingers squeezing reflexively. Morse’s breath whistled in cut-off gasps; his expression was blissful. 

“Darling,” Fred choked out, as their hips worked faster and Morse’s eyes began to well with tears, his fingers clawing Fred for more pressure, more–- _something. “_ Darling–”

He didn’t know what it made him that the rush in his gut made him want to press down with all his strength; nor what it made Morse that he came with a soundless, breathless gasp when Fred surrendered to the impulse, but that was a question for another day, an enigma he had no interest in cracking. Beneath him, Morse was shivering all over and, when Fred kissed the tear-streaked side of his face, reared up and clung as if Fred were a lifeline. It was enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just wank on the theme of "Morse=code" with a spattering of "I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time." Sorry.


End file.
